


infatuation

by orphan_account



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Coming In Pants, Confessions, Cuddling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Frottage, Getting Together, Grinding, I HAVE NOW EDITED IT, Little bit of angst, M/M, Mentions of First Time, PWP (Porn With Plot), Reddie, Smut, accidental plot oops, college fic, i was just trying to write a frottage fic and this happened, soft boys in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 02:07:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21028508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It hadn’t been necessarily an awareness of Richie, because Richie had always been touchy and sort of clingy. No, it was more of an awareness towards himself. He noticed the way his own body leaned towards Richie, how his skin tingled where Richie had touched it, how he missed the contact whenever it was gone. Eddie noticed the way he could almost feel his entire presence soften whenever Richie was around, how his mouth curved into a smile and he could feel his own eyes soften, almost. The scariest part about all of it was that that night hadn’t been the cause of these reactions. None of them felt foreign, or new in the slightest, they felt as if he had been doing them for a long time, and he probably had. But they had slept together and all of the sudden his mind and body were dead set on reminding him that everything he did probably looked a little lovesick.





	infatuation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [warmkaspbrak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/warmkaspbrak/gifts), [littlelesbiangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelesbiangirl/gifts).

> so. here's this.
> 
> this is NOT the oneshot i mentioned on my last work, this is simply a guilty pleasure that the CBT groupchat and i share, and one thing lead to another and now i have spent my two days off writing what was supposed to be a 2k porn without plot about frottage and now i have shat this out of NOWHERE and im begging you to take it from my cold dead hands at 3 in the morning. i don't know what this is but i hope you enjoyed it. ALSO! i have literally never written smut before in my LIFE!! so just take that into consideration if you will. paige and kaley, this is for you. 
> 
> ONE MORE THING! i have a oneshot in the works baby! shes at 15k, already the longest thing i have ever written and it is still nowhere near being done, but please look forward to that so i can have some confidence this fandom will even exist by the time i post it. OKAY! THATS IT! go on into the dark my friends and i apologize in advance.

Sex, as far as Eddie had been concerned, was pretty simple in and of itself. You got together, you made out a bit, engaged in some sort of foreplay, fucked, and then moved on, regardless of if it had happened with a boyfriend or a one night stand. More often than not the occasional one night stand, occasional because although sex had not disgusted Eddie in the way he had been so sure it would have based on his upbringing, the idea of finding a random stranger in which you had no knowledge of their cleanliness habits (sexually or otherwise) to do said acts with still made him a bit squeamish. Boyfriends were a whole other story, though.

Eddie’s dating track-record hadn’t been bare, so to speak, but the list was definitely short and verging on not so sweet. Eddie could count the number of relationships he’d had on five fingers, and the amount of serious ones he’d had on even less. 

There had been Jason, who he had met in his LGBTQ+ Film/Media seminar his freshman year of college, and he had been nice enough. Standing a bit taller than Eddie, with blond hair and dark, green eyes and a firm and nearly thick stature. He had been a bit of a jock, in every sense of the stereotype at least. Strong and sweet, but loud and frankly, sort of stupid. He had asked Eddie out though, only three days into the school year, and Eddie; high on the adrenaline of someone actually _ wanting _him, and on being away from his mother, had said yes. They’d dated for about a month, growing distant and out of the barely there ‘honeymoon phase’ rather quickly. It hadn’t ended badly, so to speak, but it had made the class awkward enough for the rest of the year that Eddie had taken a liking to skipping by the end of it. 

Then there had been Nick, who he had met at a frat party, for lack of a better term. That relationship had started messier than any of his others but lasted longer as well so maybe that had been a good thing. Nick had been a senior whilst Eddie had been a sophomore, and the idea of dating an upperclassman had been as exhilarating as it had been scary. Nick had been all carmel, tan skin and and wavy chocolate hair and deep brown eyes. As it turned out, Eddie had just a bit of a type, at least when it came to personality. Loud, sometimes funny, and boringly stupid. They had dated for about six months, surprisingly so, and had ended only because Nick had graduated and told Eddie he wasn’t looking for anything long distant. That had stung a bit, only for a moment though, because in all honesty Eddie had slowly been getting less and less interested every day that had passed since they’d met. That might have been the sobriety. Eddie had been drunk, and Nick had too, and it had started with them dancing in the living room, innocently enough, really, but ended with them curled up in some random bedroom. Had Eddie been sober enough he would’ve dammed the idea of hooking up on what was probably an unwashed pair of sheets all to hell, but he hadn’t been. Plus, it wasn’t like he had been losing his virginity anyway. 

That, had been left to Richie. That was kind of where everything had been thrown for a loop. Eddie had known Richie for half his life, nearly. They had met in the fifth grade, Eddie standing next to his best friend Bill Denbrough and Richie hanging off of his own best friend Stanley Uris nearly across the room from them, up until the point Richie had spotted Bill and Eddie and detangled himself, rushing over to where Eddie had been standing just slightly behind Bill. He hadn’t been _ cowering, _ (Richie could fuck off,) it had just been the first day and Eddie had known literally no one in the class aside from Bill. That hadn’t rung true for Bill, though, because as soon as Richie had marched over, clad in a hideous pair of yellow and green striped shorts and a red t-shirt, Bill had scoffed out a laugh and said; “W-what do _ you _ want, Richie?” 

That had been that, to put it simply, because after one class and a lunch period, his career of what had been an ultimately lonely elementary school experience had shifted so quickly that even now, 23 and fresh out of college, he couldn’t _ really _remember any time before that fateful day. It probably didn’t help that Richie was occupying, in every sense of the word. Not only was his fashion sense eye-catching; bright and outrageous, so was he. Richie had a dirty mouth and even dirtier fingernails, and seemed to be filled with so much merit and spite and energy Eddie could hardly keep up. Eddie had sort of hated him, at first, because Richie was messy and disastrous and cussed too much and had been basically everything his mother had ever warned him about wrapped up into one person. He still was, truthfully, because 13 years can’t change too much, especially not when your name is Richie Tozier. Richie was still loud, and still foul-mouthed, and he still dressed like he either picked out his clothes in the dark or was preparing for a weekend long rave. His fingernails were still dirty and he still split nearly everything he ate onto his shirt and into his lap, and he was still the smartest person Eddie had ever met. 

Aside from that last fact, Eddie is still pretty shocked when he thinks about the fact that it _ was _ Richie, to take his virginity or be his first time or fucking _ de-flower _ him, whatever the hell you want to call it, the night before they had left Derry to attend NYU together. Not _ together, _ because that hadn’t really been anything yet, and Beverly, (Bill’s ex-girlfriend who they had met in the 9th grade and hung onto ever since) Mike and Stan were coming with them. It hadn’t been complex or overemotional, really, and had started with Eddie bitching about the fact that not only was he going to college a virgin, but that this was New York City. Any and all gay men who attended their university were probably hot and experienced and definitely wanted nothing to do with Eddie. Eddie who was small, in his mother’s opinion delicate, and a former asthmatic hypochondriac. Richie would probably argue that in no way was he not _ still _a hypochondriac but again, Richie could fuck off. 

Richie hadn’t argued with that fact, though, and instead went with an approach Eddie hadn’t been expecting in the slightest, which was to not only insist that Eddie was _definitely _fuckable, but that if it was ‘_That big of a fucking deal, Eds, God,’ _ Richie would be happy to do the honors. He had surely been joking, at first, but that kind of spiraled into a mumbled red-faced admission that he wouldn’t _ mind, _ and that they _ might as well, _because although Richie wasn’t a virgin, had lost his to Rebecca Guthrie in the 10th grade, he was bisexual and had done jack shit with a guy, aside from making out with Stan one drunken night two years ago during a game of truth or dare. That had turned out to be, in a sense, both of their awakenings. Plus, this was fucking Derry, and it may be the 2000’s but that didn’t mean they were going to throw a pride parade, much less welcome their admittedly small gay community with open arms. 

So, one disastrous thing lead to another, as it always did with Eddie and Richie, and Eddie found himself naked with his back pressed against his bed spread and Richie on top of him, both of them sweaty and wrapped around each other tight, Richie’s head tucked into Eddie’s neck and Eddie’s in turn pressed against his shoulder in order to make as little noise as possible. The sex had been good, that was no question, good enough at least to make its way into Eddie’s dreams and even into his occasional one on one sessions, if you got where he was coming from. Good enough, apparently, for Eddie to make a comparison any and every time after he had slept with anyone else. 

That had been the thing, after it had happened they didn’t talk about it, not really. It wasn’t like it ruined their friendship, if anything it had brought them closer, but after they had cleaned up and went to bed, waking up in each others arms and packing to go to fucking New York together, all of which had been sickeningly domestic, nothing changed. They went to college, and Eddie had boyfriends and one night stands while Richie had girlfriends, boyfriends _ and _ one night stands, and they still met up at least five times a week be it them alone or with their friends, Bill occasionally when he drove down from Long Island and Ben as well, who Bev had met in her Art History class and taken an extreme liking to. It was never uncomfortable, or awkward, if anything it simply made Eddie more _ aware_, aware of the way they gravitated towards each other, aware of the way their touches lingered and how they may have looked to an unknowing passerby. Eddie was proud of himself when he realized he didn’t quite care what they looked like, and a little worried when another part of him hoped that they _ did _ look like that, like a couple. 

It hadn’t been necessarily an awareness of Richie, because Richie had always been touchy and sort of clingy. No, it was more of an awareness towards himself. He noticed the way his own body leaned towards Richie, how his skin tingled where Richie had touched it, how he missed the contact whenever it was gone. Eddie noticed the way he could almost feel his entire presence lightened whenever Richie was around, how his mouth curved into a smile and he could feel his own eyes soften, almost. The scariest part about all of it was that that night hadn’t been the cause of these reactions. None of them felt foreign, or new in the slightest, they felt as if he had been doing them for a long time, and he probably had. But they had slept together and all of the sudden his mind and body were dead set on reminding him that everything he did probably looked a little lovesick. 

And it was that, that simple word that had caused him to sit up straight in his bed three months before the end of his senior year, pull his phone off the charger and slip out of his room and into the stairwell to get to Richie’s dorm on the fourth floor. It had been dramatic, extremely so on his part, (He wasn’t even wearing _ shoes, _for fucks sake,) but Eddie couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling of knowing. Knowing so suddenly what it all meant, why he couldn’t help but take notice of the way they danced around each other, why he had spent nearly four years in this pent up state of longing and confusion, why it irked him so bad whenever Richie went out on dates or brought his girlfriend/boyfriend/fuck buddy along to their friends hangouts or excursions. Eddie was in love with Richie. Had been in love with Richie, probably even before they had slept together.

The most exciting yet infuriating part of it all was that Eddie was almost sure Richie felt the same. Because Richie’s hand lingered on the small of Eddie’s back a lot, because Richie too got strangely quiet and grumpy whenever Eddie had a date or showed up late for breakfast in yesterday’s clothes with his hair tousled and too many hickies on his neck, because Richie looked at him sometimes. Not just glanced or stared but _ looked, _ with a small smile on his mouth and his eyes sort of starry and his cheeks nearing on blushed. Richie looked at Eddie in the same all consuming way Eddie had looked at Richie, which could only really mean a few things but to Eddie the most important was this: Richie loved Eddie too. And that thought was enough to have him moving almost wildly as he rushed up the stairs, his heart pounding and his head a little fuzzy and his brain moving so quickly because Richie probably loved him too, but he hadn’t fucking _ said _ anything. He’d kept his mouth shut, which was in and of itself unheard of, and let Eddie flounder and fall in and out of relationships with people he could never really connect with and sit up in bed at night, sometimes wondering why the hell he’d had that dream _ again. _ And that was just absolutely _ not _fucking fair. 

So, like any sane and normal person would, Eddie had swung the stairwell door open, and marched towards Richie’s door feeling both frustrated and giddy, and pounded on it with such force that too this day Eddie is surprised the RA hadn’t come out and asked him what the fuck he was doing. The door had flung open, and Richie stood there, boxers and a tie dye t-shirt with his hair a fucking mess, eyes wide and alert but not magnified by his glasses and Eddie had nearly melted. If he had thought just the realization that he was in love with the man in front of him was enough to drive him crazy, seeing him and not being able to just grab his face and press his own lips against Richie’s was an entirely different ball game. 

“What the _ fuck, _man?” Richie had muttered, moving his hand up to rub at his eyes as the bright yellow light in the hallway infiltrated his dark dorm. “I thought someone was dying or some shit, what’s the issue?” Richie had moved his hand away from his eyes to take Eddie in, searching up his face, eyeing his lips for a moment before settling Eddie’s own deep brown ones, softening somewhere closer to concerned when he saw whatever expression had been painted on Eddie’s face. “Eds?” Richie tried again, “Hey, what’s up--” 

“Shut up, just--” Eddie started, before having to take a deep breath and calm himself down a bit, nearly bouncing on his heels, because there it was again, that _ look. _ “Listen, is Ben here?” Eddie asked, eyes scanning behind Richie’s frame as if he would be able to see, “Because I really, _ really _need to talk to you.” 

“Ben? No, no, he’s at Bev’s. Why? What do--”

“Okay, great,” Eddie reached over and lifted Richie’s arm out of the way to skirt underneath it and into Richie’s dorm, which was so overwhelmingly _ Richie _that it nearly engulfed him. From the cluttered cleanliness and the dirty laundry and the distinct smell of weed and Richie’s cologne, Eddie had to stop himself from inhaling too hard or else that coupled with the fact that he had just run up like, three flights of stairs would be enough to make him pass out. 

“Make yourself at home, I guess,” Richie snorted, lazily letting his door close as he turned around and eyed Eddie almost warily. “Pardon my french, or whatever, but what the fuck is going on? It’s like,” Richie paused to look down at his watch, “It’s three in the morning, Eddie, what?” He finished, looking back up at where Eddie had taken to pacing back and forth in the dorm room. “Are you high, or something?” 

“What?” Eddie asked, eyebrows raised, but he didn’t stop pacing, instead keeping his eye contact with Richie has he moved, “No I’m not _ high, _what the fuck are you talking about? I just needed to--”

“Talk to me, yeah, you said that,” Richie interrupted, his tone still somewhat apprehensive but his smile betraying him, “I’m just saying, because you look all shaky and sweaty, and you won’t stop moving and your pupils are all _blown, _man. You sure?”  
  
“Yes, I’m fucking sure,”

“Because you don’t need to _ lie _to me, dude, whoever gave you the shit probably got it from me anyway,” 

“From _ you? _ I told you to stop doing that shit, Richie, it’s dangerous and you’re gonna get fucking _ expelled, _okay, not to mention that--”

“Don’t change the subject.” 

“I’m not changing the fucking--oh my God,” Eddie stopped, pressing his hand to his head and taking a deep breath because God help him, of course this was his life. Of course out of all the nice boys in this world, in this university, for that matter, he had to go and develop feelings for Richie Tozier, who was as insufferable as he was genius and found a way to somehow simultaneously make Eddie feel so calm and welcomed and yet so wound up and nearly insane. “Please, just like, sit down or something. I have to tell you this, right now preferably because I think I might go crazy.” Richie put his hands up in surrender and made his way over, curving Eddie only slightly because he had taken to pacing again, hand pressed over his mouth and his eyebrows furrowed. Richie plopped down on the edge of the bed, hands against the mattress at his sides and his shoulders hunched ever so slightly. 

“Alright,” Richie said, giving Eddie a grin, “I’m all yours,” Eddie nodded at that, looking at him briefly before once again training his eyes on the ground, still fucking pacing, filled with nervous energy and dread yet somehow still exhilarated and giddy. “Can you stop _ that, _though?” Richie asked with a gesture at Eddie’s moving form. “You’re like, actually making me dizzy.” 

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbled, and turned towards Richie while willing himself to stop. “Sorry, I just--” He said again, taking another deep breath. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Richie said kindly, and that’s somehow so much worse, because Richie’s eyes go soft and concerned and he reaches his hand out like he wants to hold Eddie and it feels so much like they’re already _ something _and that’s. If this turns out to be a fluke and Eddie is reading too far into the way Richie acts this is going to fucking suck. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.” Eddie stared at him, and Richie’s eyes are tired but they’re so sincere and honest that Eddie can’t help but nod. Eddie sighed again, eyeing Richie’s outstretched hand for long enough that Richie nearly blushed and cleared his throat before moving his hand back to his side and staring down at the ground. 

“No, hey,” Eddie started, before he made a frustrated noise and sat down on the bed next to Richie, reaching over to grab his hand. Eddie doesn’t intertwine their fingers, he just holds onto Richie’s hand with both of his and stares at them, for a second, before closing his eyes and inhaling slowly. He can do this, they hold hands all the time, this isn’t any different. Except for the fact that it _ is, _because at no point in their 11 year friendship thus far has Eddie ever been preparing to say what he’s about to say, but that doesn’t matter. “I really don’t want to fuck this up,” Eddie muttered, and he heard Richie take in what sounded like a shaky breath. 

“What are you talking about?” Richie asked, or truthfully, whispered, and he sounded almost...hopeful? Eddie would definitely consider that as him reading too far into Richie’s reactions but Richie’s hand tightened ever so slightly on Eddie’s and his thumb began stroking the patch of skin on his hand. Eddie doesn’t say anything, for a moment, and Richie’s hand starts to remove itself. Eddie panics briefly, but instead Richie is intertwining their fingers together and letting out a soft sigh of his own at the contact. “Eddie…” He starts, and Eddie turns to look at him. Richie’s eyes are wide, and his cheeks are definitely flushed now, and his eyes are shifting between looking down at their hands and back at Eddie’s eyes. Okay, he can do this. 

“I’m in love with you,” Eddie blurted, and then nearly immediately slammed his eyes shut, because the last thing he wanted to see is Richie’s look of realization and then god forbid _ pity _if it turned out he doesn’t feel the same. “And I get it if you don’t like, if you aren’t in love with me, that’s fine. I just kind of realized? And instead of holding it in like any normal person would I figured I would come up here and tell you, which was really fucking stupid, now that I think about it, so I can just leave if you want me too. I can go and we can talk about this tomorrow--or something--or we can just... not talk about it? That works too, because--”

“You aren’t wearing shoes,” Richie said suddenly, and that--that is not at _ all _what Eddie had been expecting, and usually when Richie makes dumb comments in the middle of Eddie’s tangents (There are a lot of them,) he continues talking over him, but he can’t. Not with this, because Eddie quite literally just professed his love and Richie stated a fact about his appearance--which--what the fuck? 

“What?” 

“You came over here, and the elevator is broken so you _ had _ to have taken the stairs and--you walked up three flights of stairs, without wearing shoes?” Richie asked, although his tone made it sound more like he was stating a fact. “That dirty ass stairwell, the one you won’t even use unless you can wash your hands right after.” He continued, as if Eddie needed clarification on the fucking _ stairwell, _Jesus Christ. 

“Uh, yeah?” Eddie says, opening his eyes finally to glance at Richie, staring at Eddie's feet, his own eyes still wide but now his chest is heaving slightly, and his hand is still locked around Eddie’s. “I don’t--” But Eddie can’t finish, because Richie’s gaze has snapped up to his, and his hand has wrung its way out of Eddie’s grip to meet his other which moved to grasp Eddie’s face, and then they’re kissing. It’s not necessarily revolutionary, in the sense that romantic music doesn’t start playing and Eddie doesn’t see fireworks behind his eyes, but it's also the best kiss he’s had in a long time, maybe since the last time they had kissed, which had of course been on _ that _night. It’s over too quick though, and Eddie makes a little noise of protest and his eyes flutter a bit and Richie strokes his cheek softly. 

“I’m in love with you too, fuckhead,” He says softly, and his eyes are still starry and his voice sounds kind of wrecked all ready. “Have been for a really long time.” 

Things do change, after that. Dramatically so. They get together officially making Richie his third official boyfriend in the history of Eddie Kaspbrak, and before Eddie knows it they’ve graduated college. Eddie with a degree in Psychology and minoring in Mechanics and Richie with a Communications degree he all but throws in the trash to replace with improv classes and a job at the local radio station until he can get his dream career of stand up comedy kicked off. Eddie had thought that was a bit of a pipe dream, at first, but Richie starts getting spots at the comedy club downtown, changing from few and far between to nearly every weekend so quickly it nearly gives him whiplash. He attends when he can, and by then it's clear that Eddie had sort of been grossly underestimating him, although he won’t ever admit to it. 

They get an apartment together, but not much conversation has to happen around that because that had been their plan regardless, but it’s still so domestic it makes his chest ache a little bit. It isn’t some glamorous penthouse, they certainly couldn’t afford that, but it’s nice; clean and renovated and big enough to fit the two of them just fine. It’s definitely bare at first, a mattress on the floor of their bedroom, a couch, a small table and two plastic chairs, but it’s _ theirs. _Anyone would be able to tell too, because somehow their two incredibly different styles of room decor had melded into one sort of stylish apartment over time. They both hoard knick-knacks, and by the time they can afford like, bookshelves and side tables and shit, they’ve unpacked their boxes from their dorms and filled up nearly every surface. The walls are covered nearly floor to ceiling (not that there’s much length to cover,) in art and posters and God forbid, tapestries, though that had been entirely Bev and Richie, and pretty soon the only room that appears untouched by their peculiar taste is the kitchen. 

They’re a good couple, Eddie would like to think. They still bicker, nearly more than before, but the last time they had a full blowout fight was nearly a month into living together and it’s almost been two years now. Living together has drawn them closer in ways that Eddie didn’t really think had been possible. They move around each other fluidly, whether it be in and around their shared bedroom and bathroom while they get ready in the morning, or while they help each other cook breakfast and dinner, and most surprisingly when they both do chores. Eddie had figured he would have to put up a fight with Richie about dishes and laundry and trash, but he really hadn't. Richie needed reminders sometimes, but more often than not Eddie will come home from work to a clean enough kitchen and his laundry folded in a basket sitting atop the bench at the end of their bed. That doesn’t mean Richie is the doting housewife or whatever, because Eddie does the same just for him. 

Aside from the confessions, they’re pretty much still best friends. They fuck around and build forts and get into food fights, and spend a lot of times playing video games on the couch or binge-watching new Netflix shows. They cuddled before they got together, held hands and played with hair and the like, the only real difference is the kissing. Eddie, as it turns out, is fucking _ weak _ when it comes to Richie’s kisses. It doesn’t help that Richie uses them as some sort of mediator now, trading the way he interrupts Eddie when he starts going on tangents from words to just simply pressing his lips against Eddie’s. The most annoying part is that it _ works, _because Eddie will shut right up and press his lips back, sighing softly and pushing his hands up into Richie’s hair until Richie smiles into the kiss. Even after he pulls back, Eddie will sit there sometimes with his eyes still closed and a dopey smile on his lips. More often than not he forgets what it was he was even talking about. Sometimes it isn’t even on the lips. Eddie will be ranting on about his day, talking with his hands until Richie absentmindedly pulls one of them do his mouth, nodding along while pressing kisses to his palm and his wrist. It’s so tender and nearly second-nature that Eddie usually trails off and just stares at him, before rubbing his thumb along Richie’s bottom lip and tugging him in so he can use his mouth for something a little more productive. 

That’s one of the only other major changes; the sex. And okay, it isn’t like Eddie thought Richie was bad in bed or anything, quite the opposite in fact, but they had been eighteen the first time, not to mention that it was quite literally Eddie’s _ first time. _ Eddie had simply figured that it was just some sort of teenage wet dream situation that led him to think back on it so much, that led him to compare any other person he shared his bed with to that night with Richie. That was both unfortunately and fortunately not the case. Eddie had slept with people after Richie, but he has no recollection that the sex with any of them had been anywhere _ near _this good. They fuck a lot, him and Richie, more than suspected for a couple who had literally spent three years before they even got together in the honeymoon phase, but it’s nearly addictive. If Eddie thought they moved fluidly together outside the bed, nothing compares to the way the move inside of it. 

On an indefinite amount of occasions, Richie has Eddie with his head thrown back, weak noises spilling out of his mouth and his body moving on its own accord, no matter what he’s doing. Eddie finds he has quite the same effect on Richie. Richie has always been a bit touch-starved, and during sex it isn’t any different. Eddie kind of lives for the way that simply sucking bruises onto Richie’s thighs gets him so hard he eventually has to tell Eddie to stop. They switch often, always dependent on who wants to fuck the other more or who wants to be fucked more, and Eddie actually can’t decide if he enjoys the feeling of Richie’s dick, thick and present inside of him or his own inside of Richie, and how tight he is, how Richie clenches around him more. Sometimes they can’t even make it there, so turned on by each other’s voices and their hands that they barely even make it to the bed, and when they do their pants are off so quick and their hands wrapped around each others dicks, barely stoking for five minutes before they’re spilling over each others fingers and moaning into each others mouths. Other times it takes even less than that, sometimes they’ll just be making out, soft moans into each others mouths as they lay on the bed or Eddie sat on Richie’s lap on the couch, hands eager and searching. Eventually either Eddie or Richie will roll their hips up, almost without knowing it, and they’ll rub together. Hard and fast until Eddie has to duck his head into Richie’s neck and moan long and high as his body tenses up and he comes like a teenager in his boxers. 

Which is ironically, exactly where he finds himself now. 

It had started last night. They had gotten home late, probably around two in the morning from drinks with Mike, Stan and Bev downtown, stumbling into the apartment in a mess of giggles and weak kisses. Eddie remembers Richie had been turned on, pushing Eddie up against the wall and kissing his neck, murmuring slurred admissions of how much he had wanted Eddie, how good Eddie felt pressed against him. Eddie hadn’t been any better, grasping Richie’s hips and tugging them to his own, gasping breathy sounds into Richie’s ear. But then they had pushed away from the door and fell into the bedroom, and by the time they had stripped themselves into their boxers and collapsed on the bed, they had nearly been snoring. Richie and Eddie mixed with alcohol never really turned out to be exciting, it mostly just involved them giggling madly together and making out for a bit before they fell asleep on whatever surface could fit them both, thankfully last night it had been the bed. 

Nothing else happened, until it did, and as always it was Richie’s fucking fault. Eddie doesn’t know what time it is when he feels the arm around him tighten and fist itself into his shirt, but it’s still dark out and his head is still swimming a bit, so he knows it's only been an hour or two. Eddie doesn’t think anything of it, simply curls himself tighter into Richie’s grasp and rubs his head against Richie’s chest a bit. Richie makes a little sound of approval at that, and Eddie allows a small smile to fall upon his face at the idea that Richie liked having Eddie close, even subconsciously. Eddie nearly falls asleep again, until he feels a puff of warm air against his cheek and hears another small noise escape Richie’s mouth, accompanied by the feeling of Richie’s hips pushing ever so slightly against Eddie’s ass. Eddie’s eyebrows furrow at that and he pops his eyes open, blinking tiredly in the darkness of their room. He stills himself for a second, waiting to see if it’s actually anything because Richie was a loud sleeper and he always had been. He talks sometimes, incoherent mumbles and unintelligible sentences. He moves a lot too, legs and arms shooting out and tossing and turning although he always seems to wake up well rested. Richie doesn’t make another noise for about thirty seconds, until he does; a soft ‘_ Oh,’ _spilling out of his mouth as his hips tilt up again. Okay, so this was definitely what Eddie thought it was. 

Eddie turns around to face him now, and half of him is expecting Richie to be awake, a smirk on his lips and his eyebrows a little clenched in focus. He isn’t surprised to find Richie is asleep though, and Eddie finds his own cock hardening in his boxers a bit at the thought of Richie dreaming about sex, dreaming about Eddie, probably, about them and the things they did together. Richie has his eyes closed, and his eyebrows _ were _furrowed, but his mouth is open a little bit, little puffs of air coming out of it. Eddie watches him for a moment, kind of in awe. Their hips are pressed together now, close enough that Eddie can feel where both of their dicks meet, Richie’s hard and Eddie’s definitely getting there. Richie has stopped moving his hips, jostled a bit by Eddie’s movement. His eyes are still closed and his chest is moving slowly indicating that his breathing is slowing down a bit. Eddie reaches up and strokes Richie’s hair a bit, knowing the telltale signs of Richie waking up. Richie’s eyes move behind his eyelids slightly before he takes a deep inhale and they pop open, moving around a bit before settling on Eddie, a slow smile spreading across his face. 

“Hey,” Richie murmurs, voice rough with sleep, and it makes Eddie’s stomach pool with lust and his heart clench all the same. 

“Hey you,” Eddie says back, still running his fingers through Richie’s curls. Richie’s arm tightens around Eddie and he pulls him in slightly, jarring their hips a bit to where Richie can feel where they’re both hard against each other. Eddie gasps lightly as the contact, a sly smirk sliding onto his lips. 

“Was dreamin’ about you,” Richie says, almost shyly.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, “Kinda figured, you were making noises.” 

Richie hums at that, leaning down and pressing a sweet kiss against Eddie’s lips. “Was I?”

“Yeah, you’re always loud in your sleep though, but judging by the feel of this,” Eddie trails off, pushing his hips into Richie’s and causing him to let out a little grunt. “What were you dreaming about?” 

“Fuckin’ you,” Richie says as he kisses Eddie’s lips once more before trailing across his cheek and into the crook of his neck, “You on top, cause I know how much you like it,” Richie ‘s kisses start getting a little wetter, transitioning from pecks into light sucks across his neck. Richie finds his sensitive spot, the patch of skin right where his neck meets his shoulder and sucks a little harder, causing Eddie to release a small moan, barely there but enough to make Richie’s hips sutter and push back into his. “Making noises like that, yeah,” Richie mumbles into his skin, “You know how much I love to hear you,” 

“Why’s that?” Eddie asks, even though truthfully he knows, but he likes to hear Richie talk, especially when his voice is wrecked and turned on. Eddie’s cock is fully hard now, because of Richie’s ministrations on his neck and the slow tilt of his hips towards Eddie’s own. His brain is still a little sluggish from sleep and alcohol, so he knows they probably won't take it too far, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to get Richie off tonight. 

“Because you sound so…” Richie trails off a bit, removing his lips from Eddie’s neck and pressing their foreheads together, wrapping his hands around Eddie’s waist to pull their crotches together more deliberately. “Desperate,” Richie says, allowing a moan to rip its way out of his chest at both the thought and the way it feels to have them grinding together with purpose, “Like you need it, like you’ll lose your mind if I stop touching you,” 

“It feels that way, sometimes,” Eddie says weakly, breath speeding up as Richie encourages the slow roll of his hips, circling them in a way that has Eddie’s eyes fluttering and a whine to catch at the back of his throat, “I feel so fucking wrecked when you touch me,” Eddie says in a moment of blissed out honesty, “Never felt like that before, like I really needed it. But whenever we start it’s so hard to stop, it’s like my body craves it. Craves you,” Richie makes a noise like it’s been punched out of him at that, his head dropping to Eddie’s shoulder and his hips speeding up slightly. 

“Me too, me too,” Richie says, and Eddie brings both of his hands up to tangle into Richie’s hair as he increases the push and pull of his own hips, circling them slightly. Finally Eddie can’t take it anymore and he tugs Richie’s face to his own, sealing his lips around Richie’s in a dirty kiss. Richie whimpers into it as he opens his mouth nearly on command, allowing Eddie’s tongue to push inside and tangle with his. They keep up the quickening grind of their hips as they kissed wetly, teeth clashing and lips slipping together. The angle isn’t perfect, frustratingly so, and he lets out a tired noise before pushing Richie away slightly. He pushes Richie’s hands off of his hips and knees him gently onto his back so Eddie can crawl on top of him. He sits on Richie’s thighs and holds Richie’s hands above his head, and Richie looks--he looks fucking ruined. His chest is moving up and down harshly and his lips are red and spit slicked, and his hair is a tangled and messy halo around his head, courtesy to both the bed and Eddie’s nimble fingers. Eddie doesn’t move his hips again, staring at Richie until Richie blinks up at him slowly, something mischievous in his eyes. Richie tests a roll of his hips, and the angle is better now, the friction between their cocks with just their boxers in between is enough to make Eddie’s eyes roll back a bit, a moan falling out of his mouth. “You’re so beautiful,” Richie says softly, worming his hand out from Eddie’s grip to place on it on Eddie’s hip. Eddie rolls his eyes at that, but a blush rises to his cheeks and his other hand moves from Richie’s forearm to grasp Richie’s chin lightly, stroking the stubbly skin there. 

“You are,” Eddie hums, and he is. With his soft pale skin and his red lips and his black hair, his deep brown eyes squinty from sleep and the lack of glasses on his face. Richie was like a dream. Richie lets his other hand come down to the other side of Eddie’s body, placing it protectively on his waist instead of on his hip and stroking Eddie’s skin. Richie rolls his hips again and Eddie takes the hint, grinding his own down onto Richie’s dick, reveling in the way it makes Richie’s breath hitch, in the way it causes his hand to tighten on Eddie’s body. 

“Feels so good, you feel so good,” Richie babbles, eyes fluttering closed as his hips speed up. It isn’t going to last very long, Eddie knows that. They’re both worked up and still a little tipsy, and have been playing at this since they left the bar earlier. Eddie reaches his hand up and tugs at Richie’s curls, a weak spot for Richie, and his voice pitches when Eddie does it, the desperate pace of his circling hips increasing. 

“Not fair,” Richie gasps, and then moves both of his own hands to Eddie’s wait and pulls Eddie down against him harsher, so he’s controlling Eddie’s movements, the pace and pressure in which their cocks rub together and _ that _is also not fucking fair. Richie knows Eddie has a bit of a thing for being controlled. Eddie whines high in his throat, his hands dropping down to Richie’s chest as he throws his head back a little, losing himself in the friction for a moment. “Yeah, just like that,” Richie says breathily, “Feel good?” 

“S good, don’t stop,” Eddie slurs, pressing himself down firmer and bracing himself with the hands he has placed on Richie’s chest, grinding down with more interest. Richie starts using his hands to move Eddie’s hips back and forth, making Eddie’s head drop down and weak moans spill out of his mouth. Eddie can feel that he’s going to come soon, can feel it in the way his stomach clenches and his breathing quickens, in how his cock, nearly painfully hard is gathering wetness at the tip. Richie’s hips peak into his suddenly, and it’s so much _ more _ that Eddie nearly whimpers, a soft; “Holy _ fuck, _Richie,” spilling out of his mouth. 

“Fuck, make that noise again,” Richie all but groans, and it's the wrecked, put out tone in his voice that causes Eddie to do just that, hips rutting franticly into Richie’s and tiny, breathy moans to careen out of his mouth. “Yeah, fuck, Eds,” Which once again, is absolute bullshit because Richie knows, he fucking _ knows _ that one of the only times that nickname doesn’t piss Eddie off is in situations like this, where he’s so close and so turned on that all it does is push him even closer to the edge. Eddie has taken to quick, short circles of his hips grounding down onto Richie’s cock, head thrown back and short, ‘ _ Uh, uh, uh,’ _noises scattering from his mouth, eyes squeezed shut and mouth dropping open, all telltale signs that he’s about to come. 

Richie is close too, the movement of his hips becoming less rhythmic and more frequent, less calculated rolls and more than just a constant push of his hips. He’s moaning too, unintelligible sentences with Eddie’s name caught in between, something that only brings Eddie closer. “God, right there, just like that,” Eddie babbles after a particularly sinnful grind on Richie’s part. 

“Yeah? You gonna come?” Richie asks, and it would be more of a taunt if he didn’t sound so wrecked and in awe at the idea. Richie doesn’t get to witness Eddie coming much, to be frank. Not that Eddie never like, finished, it’s just that Richie was prone to ‘jumping the gun,’ so to speak, so lost in chasing his own high that by the time he came down, Eddie had already reached his peak. He can feel himself being able to hold out a little longer though, and the idea of coming at the sight of Eddie is enough to convince him to try. 

“Fuck, yes,” Eddie groans, nodding distractedly as his mouth falls open, hips rutting faster and harder and then-- “I’m gonna--I’m gonna, oh God, _ Richie,” _and then it happens. Eddie feels like it hits his whole body, can feel his fingertips tingling and his stomach clenching and unclenching, his breath nearly stuttering along with his hips. It pulses almost painfully but it feels so good, like his thighs and his shoulders and his back have been filled with helium. He lets out another pitiful whine as his head tilts down and a shudder shakes throughout his entire body. Eddie doesn’t stop his hips, though they tilt towards Richie’s much slower and with a lot less purpose than before. 

“Holy shit,” Richie mumbles, eyes wide and his mouth sort of falling open. Eddie lets out a huff of a laugh at that, flexing his fingers a bit from where they had started to dig themselves into the skin of Richie’s chest. 

“Do you want me to--” Eddie trails off as he begins to reach and pull Richie’s dick out of his boxers. 

“No, I want it like this, just like this,” Richie rambles with a quick shake of his head, and starts to resume pulling Eddie’s hips down against his again. It makes Eddie twitch just a bit, the stimulation being a little too much too soon after coming like he had but he kind of likes it anyway. Plus, Richie is obviously close, little grunts spilling from his mouth and he tilts his hips up and his back arches off the bed. “You feel fucking incredible,” Richie gasps out.

“C’mon, let me see you,” Eddie eggs on, slowly yet deliberately rolling his hips against Richie’s. “Let go baby, just let go,” Eddie continues, his voice soft around the edges as he continues his ministrations on Richie’s hips. Richie is nodding almost enthusiastically, his back continuously arching off the bed even more as his head tilts back. He’s letting out these closed lipped whines in the back of his throat as well, and if Eddie hadn’t literally come thirty seconds ago he’s sure he’d be halfway to hard yet again at the sight. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Richie says nonsensically, hips pushing up three more times harshly before they still completely, his thighs shaking a bit at the angle but he seems too far gone to care. “Holy shit, Eddie, fuck,” Richie groans, and then he’s coming, head tilted back and his mouth dropping open in a silent ‘o’. It’s really fucking hot, nearly so much so that Eddie just _ has _to lean down and capture his lips in a searing kiss. Richie’s ruts into him a few more times after he peaks before he stops all together, chest heaving as he presses weak pecks to Eddie’s lips. Eddie rolls off of him halfway, just so he can collapse into bed with his legs still entangled with Richie’s. They lay in silence for a brief moment, gasping for air. Eddie breaks the silence, surprisingly, with a chuckle. “What?” Richie asks, craning his neck to look at Eddie who has his red, slightly damp face buried in his hands. 

“We’re embarrassing,” is all Eddie says, 

“What do you mean?” 

“We just like, came in our underwear at 4 in the morning in like 15 minutes. We’re worse than horny teenagers,”Eddie jokes, removing his hands to look at Richie. Richie snorts at that, rubbing a hand over his face and sighing into it. 

“Teenagers _ wish _they had what we had,” Richie says sleepily, and Eddie’s face crumples a bit. 

“That’s fucking gross, don’t say that,”

“I just made you come by _ humping _you, Eddie, you don’t get to call me fucking gross.” Richie says, eyes wide and teasing.

“Don’t say _ humping _either, dude, what the fuck? Get out of my bed.” Eddie groans, shoving at Richie’s arm weakly. 

“Your bed? Where the fuck is _ my _bed, then, dumbfuck?” 

“The floor,” Eddie says simply, and that causes Richie to shove him back with a gasp. It doesn’t last long though, because Richie scoops him into his arms as best he can and nuzzles his face into Eddie’s shoulder, breathing him in. “I hope you know we're not like, going to sleep until we shower or change at _ least. _This is fucking disgusting.” 

Richie nods knowingly at that, but as he starts to sit up, he says, “Yeah we should shower, you smell like shit,” Eddie sits up quickly, an offended noise slipping out of his mouth but Richie has already jumped out of the bed, nearly running towards the bathroom and giggling madly. 

“You are a fucking asshole, Tozier, why do I even put up with you?” 

  


But as they curl around each other once again, freshly showered and the sun coming up, Eddie knows exactly why he does it. Because it’s the same reason he does everything, anything. It’s for this feeling in his chest; this elated, buzzing ache in his chest that only increases when he’s around Richie and hurts even more when he has to be away from him. He does it because he is in love with Richie Tozier, and he thanks the God he doesn’t really believe in every single day that Richie loves him back. 

**Author's Note:**

> as always, thank you for reading! feel fee but not obliged to leave comments and kudos and the like. come and talk to me! you can find me on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/punksfinn) as im there 90% of my time. , lets be friends!! once again this would not even exists without kaley or paige, so everyone say thank you to them if you enjoyed it! (and go read quiet company by perfumegenius!!! its absolutely fantastic!!!)


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